On Being Human
by Alex Damien
Summary: Spain is worried about his growing feelings for Romano, and wonders if he should have human expectations of himself. Spamano, Gerita, Holytalia, and mentions of Sufin
1. Chapter 1

Romano let himself into Spain's house and threw his suitcase on the couch.

"Where are you bastard?" He asked without much anger. This last meeting with the international monetary fund had left him drained.

He peeked into the kitchen and found only an untouched pot with lukewarm pasta on the stove.

He went upstairs to Spain's bedroom, and found him asleep in his messy bed, with the windows open to the cooling air of the evening and wearing only his old red boxers and an open shirt.

"Idiot, you'll catch a cold," he muttered as he closed the windows.

On the bed, Spain stirred and mumbled Romano's name.

"Yeah, it's me," said Romano, and sat on the side of the bed. "How many fucking siestas do you take?"

Spain gave him a lazy grin and shifted to lie on his side. His soft curls reflected the light of the setting sun.

"I was waiting for you," he said almost in a whisper, and patted the side of the bed next to him. "Come here. You look tired."

Romano gritted his teeth for a second, about to give a hurtful reply, but instead he just sighed, and pulled off his tie.

"I am. Too many damned meetings all the time," he said as he took off his shoes and settled next to Spain.

He hadn't taken a siesta with him in a long while. Decades seemed to pass him by faster than before somehow. He remembered Spain being taller, his body more muscly, and his skin a deeper, tantalizing tone. He looked down at the sheets instead.

"It's very tedious," said Spain, smiling with his eyes closed. He let his hand fall on Romano's head and tangled his fingers among his hair. "Rest. We'll wake up later for-" he yawned. "Dinner. I made pasta." He breathed deeply, threw an arm over Romano, and seemed to drift back into sleep just as fast as he had woken up.

"Lazy ass," whispered Romano.

Spain didn't move.

Romano swallowed, suddenly too aware of how strong Spain's cologne was. It seemed to flood his nose with a dark, earthy and woody scent. He noticed the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, and the way that most of his scars from old battles had faded. Most, and yet not enough. He traced the jagged edge of one scar on Spain's side, keeping an eye on his face in case he would wake up.

But Spain didn't seem to notice his wandering fingers, still smiling placidly in his sleep.

Romano frowned, noticing how there were laugh lines around Spain's eyes. They seemed to soften his expression in a strange way. The last time Romano had seen his face so close, he was still so big. So strong. And the scent of blood had never seemed to leave him.

Romano inhaled the smell of Spain's skin, trying to find traced of anything else under the smell of the cologne that France had given him. He twirled with one of the buttons of Spain's shirt and made a note to get a cologne from -his- place from him. Something made in the heart of south Italy that could cover his skin.

Romano noticed that Spain's lips had parted slightly, still with that faint smile in them.

He wanted to kiss those lips.

He wanted to kiss them. Hard. To shove his tongue into Spain's mouth and feel him moan. Would he tremble underneath Romano? Or would his smile turn into a smirk?

Romano clenched the sheets, feeling himself grow hard.

This fucking siesta had been a stupid idea. Stupid. Stupid. He gritted his teeth and pulled Spain's arm off him. He would just go to the bathroom for a moment now and be done with it.

But maybe he could try and...kiss Spain? Just a quick peek on the lips. He wouldn't even feel it.

Romano held his breath and pressed his lips to Spain's, feeling how moist and warm they were. Romano's hear jumped, and started racing. He kissed Spain deeper, feeling his mouth open up to him, and he slipped his tongue inside.

Spain trembled, and moaned, making Romano moan too and press against him. Kissing harder.

Spain made a confused noise, and opened his eyes. He pulled away, confused and panting. "Roma?" he asked.

Romano looked down and saw the way Spain's erection tented his boxers. He placed a hand over Spain's chest, feeling his racing heart, and his hot skin, and knew he wanted more.

"Yes," he breathed, and pressed their bodies together, kissing him again.

Spain's hands hovered up above Romano, then grabbed at his shoulders, pushing him away. They parted and Spain gasped.

"R-Roma, I-," he mumbled. Romano pressed their crotches together. He could feel Spain's cock hard and heavy pushing against the thin fabric of his boxers. Romano licked his lips and pulled Spain's boxers down to free his erection. Spain hissed as the cold air touched the sensitive skin of his cock, and Romano smirked down at him. He wanted to devour him.

"Fuck, Spain," he said, biting at his neck. Spain keened, arching against him, his face contorted in pleasure. Romano slid his hands downs Spain's chest, and pulled away to open his pants, his fingers slipping over the buttons in his haste.

Spain licked his lips. "Wait, no. Roma I-," he said, but Romano had already gotten his pants open, and he fell silent as Romano stroked his own cock once, twice, and then grabbed Spain's arousal along with his own.

The feeling of Romano's cock against his own made him whine in pleasure, and Romano needed no more encouragement. He pulled Spain up to ravage his mouth while he stroked them both together.

Spain wrapped his legs around Romano, and his hands held him close by his shoulders so hard it was almost painful. But all thoughts of pain washed off by the sounds of Spain moaning and mewling in pleasure.

Spain's face contorted in pleasure as he orgasmed, and Romano sighed, letting himself climax now that he'd finally seen Spain's face at the height of pleasure.

He fell on the bed next to him, satisfied and with such a fulfilling sense of contentment, he couldn't stop smiling against the sheets. He hid his face, lest Spain saw him. He hated how he looked when he smiled, and he was too happy right now to ruin it like that.

"That...wow," he said against the sheets.

Next to him, Spain was still panting. Unmoving for a moment, until he gasped, and covered himself with the sheets.

"Oh, God. No, no...," he muttered, covering his face.

Romano felt his blood run cold. "W-what?"

"Romano we shouldn't have...I mean, this...isn't right..."

"What?!" Romano pushed himself up. "I thought you liked it!"

Spain leaned away from him, unwilling to look him in the eyes. "I tried to tell you to stop..."

Romano's heart halted. It stopped beating in his chest, ceasing all pretenses to human life and sending a feeling of being crushed from inside. He opened his mouth to say something, but the cold sadness that had frozen his heart had overtaken his mind, leaving him with only the instinct to escape.

He ran.

Stumbled off the bed, and ran out the room. He heard Spain calling after him, but his words made no sense as he ran, bending reality around him to will himself back to Italy. Back to his house, and his room, and his bed; where he fell down with a scream.


	2. Chapter 2

Spain crawled forward, trying to reach him, but Romano was already gone. He tried to stand and run after him, but the cold night air brought him back to where he was, and he stopped.

He couldn't go after him. He couldn't even bring himself to look at him now. He should have stopped him. He should have pushed him away and tell him that this was wrong. That he had always treated him as the most precious of his children and he should have never looked at him like that.

Why had Romano done that? Had Spain been moaning his name in his sleep again? Had he been staring too long as he changed clothes? His own thoughts made him dizzy. He needed help. He needed to talk to someone.

He rubbed his eyes and discovered he was crying.


	3. Chapter 3

Prussia padded downstairs in his new yellow bird slippers, courtesy of his fantastic little brother.

"I'll get that," he told Germany when the doorbell rang again.

His brother merely nodded from his desk, still bent over work papers.

"What is it?" He asked as he opened the door. On the other side stood a sad and broken human shaped being, known to most as Spain.

"Prussia I'm a monster!" He yelled, and hugged Prussia so hard, Prussia's back creaked.

"Whut?" asked Prussia, trying to pull away. Spain reeked of sweat and sex and despair. "Shit, Spain, stop! Let go of me! What the hell?"

Spain finally let go, but started sobbing and mumbling something.

"Dude you're not making any sense," said Prussia, letting him in and closing the door. He noticed that Spain seemed to have ran to his house straight from bed, if the rumpled shirt and red boxers were any indication. "You need to take a shower and calm down."

"No, no, I..."

"No nothing. Come here. Go up and take a shower, you already know where the bathroom is. I'll go talk to West now. I don't think you'd like him to see you like this."

Spain nodded, and walked upstairs.

Prussia saw him go upstairs and sighed. He had expected to spend a quiet night at home wearing his new slippers, but friends came first. He went to Germany's study and found him putting on his coat.

"Who was it?" asked Germany, looking around for his phone.

"Uh, Spain. He…has a problems with the plumbing at his house, so he's taking a shower now, and will stay the night…," said Prussia, tapping his fingers on the doorframe. He hoped Germany would just not ask any more questions because that was as far as he had planned his excuse.

Germany nodded. "Fine. I'll be gone now then. I'm having dinner with Italy, so I'll see him later. Please tell him I'm sorry to not be able to say hi to him, but I'll be running late if I don't leave now."

"Sure thing," said Prussia, hitting Germany's arm softly as his brother walked out of the study.

"Please don't do anything strange," said Germany.

"Nah, don't think we will. But you never know. Adventure always calls to our door!"

Germany shook his head. "Then I'd appreciate if you closed the door on adventure. At least for tonight. I don't want to have you calling me at one in the morning from the police station. Again."

Prussia felt his face turning red. "T-that's so totally not usual!"

"Goodbye Bruder."

Prussia kicked the floor when Germany was gone "Nagging at me before I do anything. He's losing respect for his elders," he said. The fact that he had indeed called him from a police station three times that year failing to register in his mind.

He heard the shower stopping and ran upstairs to get some clothes for Spain. He pulled out some jeans and an old shirt of his and went to the bathroom. He opened the door, and found Spain sitting in the bathtub, wet and miserable.

"What are you doing there?" asked Prussia. He left the clothes in a shelf and pulled out a towel for him.

"Nothing."

"Then get up and dry already," he said, pulling on his arm, but Spain refused to move.

"No."

"What? Why not?!"

"I don't want to move anymore. I want to stay here. Forever."

Prussia gritted his teeth. "You can't stay in my bathroom forever! Goddammit Spain, what is wrong with you?" he kneeled down next to him and pulled a stray lock of hair away from his eyes. He had never seen Spain so completely sad.

"I made Romano sad," said Spain, letting his head fall.

Prussia blinked. Well, that was more understandable. "Alright, explain yourself," he said, and started drying Spain's hair.

By the time Prussia had convinced him to put on pants, they had reached the part of the story that had too much detail about Spain's sex life for Prussia's taste.

"No, stop," said Prussia. "Put on a shirt and give me a minute to change. We're going out. I'm way too sober to be listening to that."

Five minutes later, he had changed his slippers, put on some decent boots, found a coat for Spain, and they set out to the center of Berlin.

"I just don't get it," said Prussia, hands in his coat pockets as they walked into an old favorite bar of his. Dark and quiet. They sat at a table in the far corner. "I thought you both had, you know…," he moved his hand, trying to find a word that was far enough from fuck to be comfortable to him, but still conveyed the meaning. "Frickfracked."

Spain lifted his eyebrows at that, and ordered a bottle of spiced rum. "Seriously? Frickfracked?"

"You know what I mean!"

Spain took a shot before speaking. "We hadn't," he said. The burn of the rum down his throat felt good after being so cold since Romano left. "And we….I mean, we shouldn't in the first place."

"You shouldn't? Spain you love him. You are head over heels for him. You say his name like a hundred times a day, and he spends more time at your house than at his own."

"I know! But I didn't know that Romano felt…the same way for me. I knew he appreciated me, but not…like this."

"I'm not following."

"Prussia, he was basically my son! I cared for him since he was a little child."

"Yeah, and he has not been a little child for at least a hundred years."

"But that doesn't erase the hundreds of years I spent caring for him, and feeding him, and raising him like a son, and," he covered his face with his hands. "And I still want him, oh God Prussia, I'm a pervert.

Prussia bit his lower lip. That was a difficult situation. In any case, they were immortals. The usual rules of human morality didn't always apply to them. Beheading someone's relative, for example, was usually considered a very rude thing to do, and if such thing was applied to them, France wouldn't be in very good terms with Austria.

"Ehh, I don't know," finally said Prussia, and took a sip from his drink. Rum and coke wasn't his favorite, but Spain seemed intent on getting drunk as fast as possible. "The kid loves you, that's for sure," he said, and immediately regretted using the word kid.

"I should have stopped him. I should have done something, but I just…I wanted it so much. I wanted him for so long, and managed to stop myself every time. But when he was kissing me, and moaning my name, I…I lost it. I couldn't stop myself anymore. And then I made it all worse when I tried to explain myself. He probably thinks I hate him."

"Then tell him you don't!"

"No, I can't even look at him now! What am I going to tell him? I love you, but you've been like a son for me all this time, and I feel really weird about wanting to fuck you? Should I tell him that Prussia?"

"Well, shit, no of course not. But come on, you're the only one having this problem. Look at England and America."

"Don't compare me to England! You're supposed to be helping me with this, not making it worse!"

Prussia threw his hands in the air and decided the matter was off his capacity to handle.

"Look," he said, filling both their glasses again. "I don't know shit about relationships, because my amazing sword of chastity –which I must remind you, was an actual sword-, kept me happily non married for…well, since forever I suppose. But the thing is, I don't give love advice, so let me call France and once he gets here-"

"No!"

"Why not?! Who better to help you on this than France?" said Prussia. He was running out of patience with his friend's obstinacy.

Spain picked up his glass and slouched back on his seat, mumbling something that Prussia didn't manage to hear.

"What was that?" asked Prussia.

"I said I already talked about this with France," said Spain, scowling.

"You already…And what did he say?"

"It doesn't matter! It didn't help me!" yelled Spain, and Prussia realized that they had been steadily rising their voices and draining the bottle of rum.

"Let's…let's get out of here and look for another place," said Prussia, noticing the looks the waiters were giving them.

They picked up their bottle, and left the bar.

Prussia swayed when the cold night air hit his face. Spain held on to a wall.

"Shit, I'm getting old," said Spain with a sharp smile. "I used to drink much more than this and not…act like a fucking lightweight."

"Let's go to the White Trash to eat something," said Prussia, and started walking.

Spain followed. "Don't you need a reservation?" he asked.

"I always have reservations in all the clubs of Berlin, dumbass!"

Spain laughed aloud for the first time in the night, and bumped against him. Prussia laughed too. A burger and a few more drinks, and maybe Spain would stop being so closed off to all the options. It wasn't like him to be so gloomy, and it was starting to worry Prussia.

As they walked they saw a couple girls ahead talking with some guys from a van. The girls said something and kept walking with a slight sway that showed they were at least a bit drunk. The van followed them, advancing slowly. One of the girls yelled something, and the van stopped. Two tall blonde guys got out, and Prussia elbowed Spain, who nodded and jogged up to them. Prussia followed.

"¡Hola! Excuse me~," said Spain in a heavy accent. "My friend and I, we are lost. Could you help us?"

The girls looked relieved, but one of the guys spat at Spain's shoes.

"Go away!" he said. The other one pulled one of the girls into the van.

Spain kept smiling, up until he was close enough to punch the guy's lights out. He hit him so hard, he felt something breaking under his knuckles.

"What a rude guy," he said, smiling again and looking down at his shoes. "These aren't even mine."

The other one let go of the girl he was pulling into the van, and tried to hit Spain, but Prussia kicked him in the stomach, grabbed his arm and pulled it back in an armlock, pushing him down on his knees while he was trying to breathe.

"How about you apologize to these ladies?" he said with a smirk. "It's not gentlemanly to pull young women into cars like that."

The girl who had been pulled into the ban lifted her bag and hit him on the head with it. Prussia laughed, and let go of the guy who fell down next to his friend.

"I trust you will be safe now ladies?" said Spain, smiling brightly. "I hope they haven't ruined your fun."

The girls laughed. "Thank you, they started following us a couple blocks away, it was so scary!" said one of them, the tall one that had been pulled into the van. "We were going to the cookies. Come, we'll buy you a drink!"

"No, thank you. We have to, uh…go somewhere…" said Spain, the smile vanishing from his face.

"Fine then. Here, have this!" said the other girl, and pulled a bottle of vodka from her bag. "As thanks."

"No, thank you but-"

"Take it please!" she said, and started walking away.

The other one leaned inside the van, took out the keys and threw them at Prussia. "Those jerks don't deserve a van!" she called back as she ran towards her friend. She tripped a little, but her friend caught her, and they laughed.

"Well they don't," said Prussia.

One of the guys started moving.

Spain smirked. "Yeah, let's take it," he said.

"Take? The van? What?!" cried Prussia.

But Spain had already jumped inside. He found a couple jackets, threw them at the guys and settled himself in the passenger seat. Prussia shook his head, but jumped into the drivers seat.

"Where do we even go now?" he asked, putting the keys on. He leaned back, and the van started by itself. Luckily this was an old Volkswagen, and all German cars knew to listen to Germany's big brother. The little van dutifully started advancing at a slow pace.

"The beach!" proclaimed Spain, and took a swig from their newly acquired vodka bottle.

"The b-…what beach?!"

"Uh, I don't know…What's the closest one? Uhhh…Neinhagen?" said Spain.

" _Nienhagen_ , dumbass," said Prussia. "Fine, whatever. There's a hotel there, at least."

The little van then started advancing faster. It didn't have enough gas to reach Nienhagen. It barely had enough gas to get them out of Berlin, but those things didn't concern Prussia, and they didn't concern the little van either.


	4. Chapter 4

Dawn found them asleep in the van, with a bunch of birds sitting all over it, and a couple goats sitting next to it. One was inside the van, and had started to chew on the sleeve of Spain's coat.

Spain felt the pull on his clothes, and stirred. He tried to pull up his hands to shield his eyes from the morning sun, and found the goat.

"Uh," he said. The goat kept chewing his sleeve. "No, you stop that," he said then, and pulled the rest of his maimed sleeve back, pushing the goat away. His mouth felt dry and whenever he tried to look at anything, flashes of pain in his head made him close his eyes.

Next to him, Prussia was asleep over the steering wheel, with a couple little birds nesting in his hair.

Spain scratched his head and tried to make sense of everything. He remembered the goat, which they had picked up after they'd finished the bottle of rum, on the outskirts of Berlin. And he sort of remembered Prussia making strange birdcalls as the approached Nienhagen, but he couldn't remember why they were in van in the first place, or why they had thought that driving one to Nienhagen was a good idea.

He looked ahead at the stretch of shore in front of them, with the clear blue skies and the soft waves the rippled across the water. It was beautiful. He loved beaches. It came with being part of a peninsula, he supposed. They always comforted him, especially when he was upset.

Like now. Because he had rejected Romano.

The entire memory of last night came back to him. Waking up to find Romano kissing him. Feeling him touching his body, setting his skin on fire, and trying not to move as Romano kissed and bit at him, because he knew that if he tried to move, he would end up pressing Romano down against the bed and ripping his clothes off him, and fucking him. Hard. Furious. Taking all he had stopped himself from taking for so long.

Despite the cold morning, he felt his body growing too hot, and got out of the van.

He sidestepped the goats and considered waking Prussia up.

Instead, he merely grabbed his wallet, and left him to keep sleeping among his birds. He would wake him up after he'd gotten something for breakfast. No sense in waking up like this anyway.

"No se muevan (Don't move you all)," he told all the variety of animals around the van, and stumbled forward, following a street that said Strandstrasse. Whatever that meant.

He walked until he found a restaurant. He stood outside, admiring the greenness of the garden that looked towards the beach. He was too tired to keep walking, and just dragged his feet inside. A tiny bell chimed above the door as he entered. Next to the cashier he saw three different types of cakes. Chocolate, strawberry, and something with cheese.

"Wilkommen," said a blonde.

Spain smiled and pointed to the cakes. "I want them. All three," he said.

The woman blinked. "Uh? All cakes? All of them?"

Spain nodded, and after a few more words, he left the restaurant with three different cakes, back to the beach. As he stood outside the restaurant with an armful of cake and a couple coffees, he saw a man get out of a car along with a boy of no more than five years. The woman driving went on to park the car while the man pulled up his son to carry him on his shoulders. They both smiled at Spain when they entered the restaurant.

He'd had his own share of that. Hundreds of years ago, and he had loved it. Honestly, playing dad had been one of the few things keeping him sane amidst the endless wars, and battles. When he kicked open a door to look for hidden survivors, only to find bloody dolls still held by tiny, cold hands; he could turn his thoughts to wonder where he could get more toys for Romano.

He came back to the van and found Prussia kneeling next to it and yelling his name, still with those two birds nesting in his hair.

"Hey, I'm here," called Spain, waving at him. "I brought cake."

"Where were you? Dammit! I couldn't remember anything, and my head hurts like hell. I wanted to call someone, but that," Prussia pointed to the goat in the van, chewing something plastic. "Ate my phone, and I can't even find my fucking wallet!"

"Yeah, I took your wallet to go get breakfast. Here, I brought coffee," he said and extended a paper coffee cup to him.

They ended up eating at the beach, sitting on their coats and freezing their asses off. Even the coffee was cold after just a few minutes.

"West is gonna be pissed if we tell him about the van," said Prussia, and took a bite of the cheesecake.

Spain had hoarded all of the chocolate one for himself. "I won't tell him if you don't. But if you tell him, I'm blaming you for everything."

"Asshole," said Prussia. "Oh, you know who we should ask about this whole thing? Austria! He's been married. He knows about this stuff."

Spain lifted an eyebrow at him. "Austria? Seriously? He's my ex-husband Prussia. Even worse, he _gave_ Romano to me. If there's someone I don't want to talk to right now, it's Austria."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot that you two were married. I…don't usually remember all the people he's been married to. They're…a lot," said Prussia, and took a sip from his coffee.

Spain realized he had touched one of their _issues_. They never talked about Austria's marriages when Prussia was present. Ever.

To be honest, he didn't even think about his own marriages himself. And he'd had a lot. They were just things that happened in the background of life in his land. Some people went to live together when their royal families married, but Spain had never had much of a desire to do that, and after a while, people just let him be. He would wear the damned ring, and he decided that was enough. It certainly had been for Austria at the time.

"Sorry," said Spain. "I didn't mean to sound rude."

"You didn't. It doesn't matter. What do we do now?" asked Prussia, and took another bite of cheesecake.

"I don't know. I don't want to go back yet. Do you want to go anywhere? Or see something?"

Prussia stared at the waves ahead. "Sweden's up there, right?" he said, pointing to the right, and Spain nodded. "I've always wanted to see the northern lights. How about we go see them, and visit Sweden on our way there?"

"Now that you say it, I haven't seen the northern lights either. Yeah, let's go."

They loaded birds, goats, and the remaining cake into the van, and set off.


	5. Chapter 5

Italy arrived back home in the morning, and felt Romano's presence immediately. Usually, Romano felt like a dark and heavy presence weighing down the house, but the moment Italy stepped into the house, all he felt were waves of sadness pressing at him from every corner of the house.

He ran upstairs and tried to open the door to his brother's room, but found it locked.

"Fratello, is something wrong?" he yelled. He could hear Romano crying from inside.

Romano cried more than him. Far more. From embarrassment, from longing, and from sheer anger. But never like this. Never from such a deep sadness like he did now.

Italy tried to force the door knob. "Fratello? What's happening? Answer me!"

"Go away!" yelled Romano.

Italy huffed. He ran to the study, picked up a chair, and ran back to Romano's room to break down the door with it. He hit it once and splinters flew everywhere. He hit another time, and the door broke down. He threw the chair away and stepped into the room.

Romano didn't even seem to notice that he had broken his door, and just hid his face under the pillows. "Go away Feliciano!" he cried, but his voice broke in the middle of saying Italy's human name, which they used between them after the unification.

"Please Lovino, talk to me!" said Italy, sitting on the bed next to him. He felt something in his eye and rubbed it away only to find he was crying too. So close to Romano, their emotions, like their lands, easily became one for both of them. "What happened to you?"

"It's…It's…I did something horrible fratello!" cried Romano, and embraced Italy, sobbing into his shoulder.

"Something horrible? What was it? I can't believe you could do something bad."

"But I did. I did. I hurt Spain!"

"What?!"

Romano threw himself to the pillows again "I think…I think I raped Spain!"

Italy felt his blood run cold. "No. No. That can't be. You love Spain, and Spain loves you, right?" he asked, pulling Romano up by his shoulders.

Romano pushed him away. "No. He doesn't love me, and I…I forced him to…," he heaved. "I'm disgusting. I forced Spain to have sex with me. I thought…I really thought he loved me."

"But then…you hadn't had sex already?" asked Italy.

"Of course not! We…hadn't even kissed," said Romano.

"Really?! But you…You two were always together, even more than me and Germany. I thought for sure you two were already…"

"We were not! And it's because Spain doesn't love me and I was too fucking stupid to see it!"

Italy stood up. "No. There must be a mistake here. There has to be! I know love when I see it, and I know big brother Spain loved you! Get up, you have to go and talk to him."

"No," said Romano, and pulled the blankets over himself, to hide from the world. "I won't. I can't bear having him hate me any more!"

"Fine, then _I'll_ go and talk to him," said Italy, and walked out of the room.

Romano jumped out of the bed. "Stop! No, stupid fratello!" he chased Italy and caught him at the top of the stairs. "Fine, I'll go. I'll just…get changed first," he said, holding Italy's arm. "But I…I don't know what I can tell him."

"We'll clear this now, and even if…," Italy looked away. "If it is as you say. The best thing you could do is apologize to him for your actions."

Romano let go of him. "You're right," he said and walked back to his room, unbuttoning his shirt in the way. He let it fall off him and threw it in a corner of the room. "Do you think he will forgive me?" he asked.

Italy followed him back. "I think Spain would forgive you for anything," he said, and noticed the bruises on Romano's back. "What's that?" he asked, getting closer to him to look at them.

Romano looked at his shoulders. "Uh? I…I think that's where he…" his face turned red. "He held me when we were…Err…"

"Having sex?"

"Don't say it dammit! God, I don't even want to think about it!"

"But he didn't try to push you away? He held you close to him in the middle of sex?"

"I told you to not say it! Just don't use that word! Yes, he held me by the shoulders and with his…uh, legs too…"

Italy narrowed his eyes. "I really don't think that was-"

"Shut up!"

"I mean, Spain is way stronger than you, and if-"

"Just shut up already!" Romano threw a pillow at him.

He was furious, and Italy planned on asking him more about it later, but for now, he felt a weight lifting from his chest.


	6. Chapter 6

Italy and Romano stood at the door of Spain's country house for a moment, before Italy took the lead and pressed the doorbell.

Romano gasped and tried to run away, but Italy grabbed him and pulled him back.

Italy pressed the doorbell again. There were no sounds from inside the house.

"He hates me. He doesn't want to see me and he won't open," said Romano.

"I won't believe that until I hear it from Spain's mouth," said Italy, and knocked on the door. "Big brother Spain! Open please!" he called.

Romano covered his face with his hands. "I can't stand this," he said.

Italy tried to open the door. It wasn't locked, and slid open before them.

They stood there for a moment, and then Italy stepped inside.

"W-what are you doing idiot?!" said Romano, but still followed him inside.

"Big brother Spain? Are you in here?" called Italy. "Look, isn't that your briefcase?" he pointed to the briefcase Romano had left on the couch the day before.

"Y-yes. I left it there yesterday…" said Romano, and went to the kitchen. On the stove he found the same untouched pot of pasta he had seen before. He went up to the bedroom, and found it empty. The bed was still unmade and the sheets dirty and messy.

"He didn't move anything," said Romano, tears falling from his eyes as he slid down to the floor. "He was so disgusted he left immediately. What have I done Feliciano?"

"No! There must be another reason! He must be somewhere! France and Prussia might know. I'm calling Germany's house!" said Italy, and took out his phone.

Romano sobbed quietly on the floor.

It took a couple rings before Germany picked up the phone. "Hallo?"

"Germany! Hi!" said Italy.

"Oh, Italy. Hi. Is there any problem?" asked Germany. They had indeed seen each other just a few hours earlier.

"Yes."

"What happened?!"

"I mean, uh not with me. I was looking for Prussia. I wanted to ask him if he had seen big brother Spain."

Germany sighed. "Don't scare me like that. Yes, Spain was here yesterday. There was some problem with the plumbing at his house I believe. He was staying the night, but now I can't find him or my brother in the house. I'm sure they went out drinking. Even though I told Bruder not to."

"He was there? Really? That's great, please try to find him, it's an urgent matter! We'll be there in a moment."

"We?"

"Romano and I. See you!" he hung up and looked down at his brother. "Spain went to Germany's house!"

Romano had fainted.

"Oh nooo…"


	7. Chapter 7

Romano came back to consciousness in a strange living room. Two figures hovered over him, but he couldn't make out who they were. He tried to speak but it came out like a string of nonsensical mumbling.

"He's back. Why can't he speak?" said Feliciano's voice.

Romano tried to get up, but a big and strong hand pressed against his chest, forcing him to lay down.

"No, don't move," said a deep void.

"Ugh, potato bastard," said Romano.

Somewhere to the side, Italy laughed. "He's alright then!" he said, cheerful as ever.

"Where am I?" asked Romano.

"You're at Germany's house. You fainted while we were at Spain's house," said Italy.

Romano gasped, and sat up. "Spain. What-"

"Don't move!" cried Germany, steadying him by placing a hand on Romano's back. "You're too weak. Have you eaten anything?"

Romano shook his head. Too tired to even speak.

"Stay here, I'll bring you something to eat," said Germany.

"I'm not hungry. I want to go home," said Romano, slouching.

Italy sat down next to him. "Fratello, Germany said that Spain was here yesterday. He went out with Prussia last night," he said.

"What? Why did he come here?" asked Romano. He was too weak to make sense of anything. "Did he say anything about me? He must be so-" a wave of dizziness hit him and he fell back on the couch.

Italy caught him and made him lean against his shoulder. "You need to eat something first. We're still trying to find Spain."

Romano nodded. He realized he could not go on like this. He had to confront Spain, and the sooner the better.

Germany gave him a mug with warm milk. "Drink this. I'll call France now to ask if he has seen them."

Romano took the mug with no resistance, which made Germany frown in concern at him, but he said nothing, and went to the phone to call France immediately.

It rang for a long while before France picked up.

"Mon Dieu, do you know how early it is right now, you brute?" asked France with a groggy voice.

"France it's almost midday."

"So early!"

"It's Tuesday!"

"Argh, alright. What do you want?" cried France.

"Are my brother or Spain with you?"

"Should they be with me? Then yes."

"France it's important! Something happened to Spain, and-," said Germany, when he felt Romano's cold hands pulling the receiver away from him. He was so surprised, he let go of it.

"France," said Romano with a cold, firm voice. "I need to find Spain. I need to find him now. Have you seen him since yesterday night?"

France swallowed. "What happened to him?"

"I did something horrible to him, and I need" his voice broke, but he composed himself. "I need to find him. Is he with you?"

"No. No mon cher, he is not with me, but I'll find him for you."

"Thank you France."

"But, just one thing. I won't ask you to explain anything now. I can hear how distressed you are. But please remember that I have known him for two thousand years, and I have never seen him love anything more than he loves you."

"No, he doesn't France. He never loved me," said Romano, and hung up.

Romano breathed deeply and walked to the door. "I need to find him," he said, reaching for the handle. Italy tried to stop him."

"No, fratello. Please, you need to rest and eat something first. What if you faint again?" he said.

"I won't. Get out of my way," said Romano, and pushed his brother away from the door.

Two strong hands lifted him from the ground, and he screamed when he felt himself being heaved over Germany's shoulder like an undignified sack of potatoes.

"You need to rest. France and I will look for Spain and my brother," said Germany, carrying him to the guest bedroom. He set Romano down gently on the bed, and Romano barely had enough strength to try and hit him.

"Fucking bastard," cried Romano.

Germany pulled a blanket over him. Italy came into the room with the mug of warm milk Romano had left in the living room.

"I'll go cook you something nice. Stay here," said Italy, and went back down to the kitchen.

Germany sat on the bed next to Romano.

"Go away," said Romano, inching away from him as far as the wall next to the bed would allow him.

"If I go away you will try to escape. Drink that, and I'll leave you alone," said Germany, with the tired tone of someone talking to a four year old throwing a tantrum.

Romano huffed, but drank the milk anyway.

They sat together, with only the sound of the rustling blankets between them.

"If you wanted to help me so much you would be out there looking for them," muttered Romano, sick of the silence in the room.

It wasn't the comfortable silence he used to feel when Spain fell asleep next to him on the couch because he was bored of the movie they were watching; but he never said anything about it, because Romano loved movies without any explosions in them. And if there were no explosions or fight scenes, Spain grew bored of having to sit still in silence.

If Romano thought about it, there were a lot of things that Spain didn't like, but they all seemed so small at the time. He didn't like the dishwasher Romano had chosen, he didn't like that Romano put his books back in the shelves when he left them out, he didn't like the way Romano made coffee. And if Romano had paid attention to all those little things, maybe he would have realized that he also didn't like Romano himself. He would have realized, he was sure of it. Before he had done something like this.

"We'll find them" said Germany, as if stating a fact. "To be honest, all this has a strange feeling of unreality. I would have never thought you two would ever have such a big fight."

"We didn't. I…I did something very bad," said Romano.

"I know," said Germany, nodding.

"No, you don't know. It was…terrible."

"Italy told me while you were unconscious."

"What?!" cried Romano. He almost spilled the rest of the milk in the mug. "Fucking Feliciano, I can't believe he-"

"He was beside himself with worry. I could barely make out what he was saying. I worried he might faint at any moment too."

Romano looked down. "Hmp. Still, it's not something he can tell to anyone. Lest of all you. God, I never…I really never…," he couldn't bring himself to say it.

"I always thought you two had already had sex, to be honest," said Germany.

Romano threw the rest of his milk over his head.

Germany jumped off the head. "What are you doing?!"

"I have never hated you more than now," said Romano, in a cold detached tone. He was too exhausted to be angry anymore.

Germany took a deep breath, and went to the bathroom to clean himself. Romano looked at the door, and vaguely considered running out of the house, but he would probably not get very far, and Germany came back quickly, still toweling milk off his hair. With that concerned expression and his hair down, he reminded Romano of Holy Rome. He hated being reminded of him.

He had been on Spain's house when Prussia arrived to stay the night, carrying a little coffin with him.

 _"_ _You can't keep him Prussia! You have to let go of him!"_ had said Spain that night. He had sent Romano away and locked him in his room, but he hadn't listened. He knew Germans were dangerous, and no matter what Spain said, he wouldn't take his eyes away from Prussia.

So he had hidden in a corner in the shadows.

And he had seen Prussia open the coffin and cradle the little body of the Holy Roman Empire in his arms. Crying.

 _"_ _He can't be dead! I don't want him to be dead!"_ said Prussia through the tears. _"_ _He was afraid. He died afraid, Spain. I can't leave him now."_

Spain had paced from one end of the room to the other. He hadn't even wanted to see the body. Romano himself felt repulsed by the sight of it and grateful when Spain forced Prussia to put it back in the coffin.

Romano had cried in silence, feeling the burning tears fall down his face. It was a horrible sight. He hated that coffin. It was as if death itself could tear the life away from him. Every minute he spent hidden there, he felt something dark and cold calling out to him from the confines of that coffin.

Spain could feel it too. Romano had seen it in the way his green eyes turned pale when he looked at Holy Rome's dead body.

 _"_ _You can keep it, but how could you bring him back?"_ had said Spain, pulling Prussia away from the coffin. _"_ _I have never seen something like that. Our bodies must be returned to the earth Prussia. They have to."_

Prussia had refused to bury Holy Rome, and the next day Spain left with Prussia. He didn't mention anything to Romano, and Romano in turn had never said anything about that night.

But when Prussia appeared just a few years later with a brand new little brother. All blue eyes and golden hair, Romano knew. Feliciano never saw anything into it, but Romano would never forget that night.

"You look like an idiot with your hair like that," said Romano, and hid himself under the covers.

"I wouldn't have had to rinse my hair if you-" started Germany, but his phone rang.


	8. Chapter 8

Back in a chic Parisian apartment, France heard Romano hung the phone.

"Ah, kids these days. Still suffering for love. It's as painful now as it ever was," he said to himself. Next to him, the supermodel he had spent the night with, stirred and woke up.

"Umm? Were you saying something?" she asked, and blew a long blonde lock of hair away from her face.

France scoffed out a laugh and got up. "I said I was sorry. I had an urgent call and have to go look for a friend right now. It's a desperate situation. I truly am sorry," he said pulling on his pants.

"Is that what you tell every woman?" she asked, settling back under the covers.

"Of course not. I'm usually more creative, and I wish it wasn't the truth right now," he said, throwing on last night's shirt and picking up his coat.

After blowing her a kiss, he walked out of her apartment. He buttoned up his shirt while he rode the elevator down, and kept getting weird looks from an older gentleman in a tacky dark green sweater vest. He straightened his shirt and buttoned up his coat. With an arrogant smile. He refused to be stared down by people with such an awful sense of style.

As he walked out of the building he kept thinking about where he could find Spain. He put together a rough flow of the events. Romano and Spain had had some kind of fight and considering Romano's words, it would have involved the old problem Spain had talked to him about, he was sure of it. Then Romano had left, and Spain had gone to Prussia's. Now, if he was Prussia, what would he do if he was presented with a very shaken Spain?

France decided they must have gone to a bar. Fresh air and alcohol seemed to cure all ills in Prussia's mind. And knowing him, he must have chosen a quiet place for them to talk. France entered and alley, and found an old rust covered door that hadn't been opened in years. He pushed it open without any worry for getting his clothes dirty. In Paris, even the dust respected him. He crossed the door, and found himself exciting another door, in a back alley in downtown Berlin, next to the building for one of Prussia's favorite bars. The little place he went to when his ostalgie was rising, and where France already knew to look for him.

He entered despite de "closed" sign.

"Excuse me?" he asked one of the waiters cleaning the tables. "I'm sorry for intruding."

"Sorry sir, we're closed," said a short, chubby man with an ill fitting black vest.

"I know, but I'm looking for a couple friends that might be missing," he took out his phone to show him a picture of them he had taken a couple months ago during one of America's parties.

"Oh, them. Yes, they were here. They started yelling about, uhmm, uncomfortable things. We were about to ask them to leave when they paid and left on their own. I already talked to the police about them."

"The police?"

"They came in earlier, saying that a Spanish man and a white haired albino had attacked two boys and stolen their van yesterday night."

France frowned. That made no sense. "I see. I think I'll go talk to the police then. Thank you," he said.

With a nod to the waiter, he exited the bar. If he was in any part of France, he would have also made sure that the man wouldn't remember anything about their conversation, but the guy was German up to five generations back. So German in fact, France was sure his blood would probably smell like potatoes and sausage.

He walked on, trying to imagine what Prussia might have been thinking when they got out of the bar. It wasn't hard for him. People often said that the devil's cunning came more from age than from devilry, and after so long walking the earth, France was inclined to agree.

He saw two police officers ahead, between a couple yelling women, and a couple yelling men. He lit a cigarette and stood nearby a cafeteria door.

"They're lying!" said one of the girls. "They were harassing us, and they got their asses kicked, so now they're blaming the guys who saved us!"

The shorter of the two police officers pressed the men a couple of steps away from the ladies.

"Is this true?" asked the other cop, staring down at them.

"No, of course not! We were just standing there, and these bitches told them to hit us! We're innocent. Look, the Spanish jerk almost broke my face!" said one of the men, a big, broad chested blonde who looked like he could bend iron with his hands. The side of his face was swollen and colored in all the kinds of purple that skin could get.

France let out a puff of smoke and tried not to grin. For all his bragging, Prussia didn't often hurt humans. Spain did, and it looked like he had been having fun teaching that boy a lesson.

"Check the cameras then!" said the other girl, wearing a very unfortunate orange fur coat. It might have looked much better on her darker skinned friend, but it made her look sickly pale. "Let's check the cameras and clear up what happened then!"

The boys paled. "There are cameras?" the shorter of them asked.

One of the officers pointed to a couple cameras on the third floor of the building across the street.

France took out his cell phone, discreetly took a couple photos and walked away. After a block, he dialed Germany.

"France? Could you find anything?" came the concerned voice of Germany on the other end.

"Maybe. It seems they got into a fight yesterday," said France, and gave him the address and the names of the two cops looking into the issue. "I'll send you some photos of them I took. Talk to them and maybe they'll show you the tapes of last night."

"Thank you France, I'll get to the police station right away."

"It's nothing dear. Call me if you find anything."

France hung up and pictured a rough map of northern Europe in his mind. The closest beach was to the north. A cold little stretch of shore that the three of them had visited once a while ago. Knowing Spain, he would have probably gone to brood drunkenly on the sands of the nearest beach, and dragged Prussia with him.

He could have told all of this to Germany, but then he would have probably reached them first, and France wanted to have enough time to have a stern talk with Spain, before would speak to anyone. Much less Romano.


	9. Chapter 9

Sealand opened the door and Found Spain and Prussia holding a cake and smiling the same way that Finland smiled when Sweden announced they were going to ikea for a quick trip.

"Moi Moi!" they both chanted. Behind them, a goat bleated, and two others started to eat the grass on the garden. "We brought cake!"

"Dad, Spain and Prussia brought goats!" called Sealand.

"No, no, we brought cake," said Spain, shoving the cake into Sealand's hands. "Tell your dads we brought ca- oh, hi Sve."

Sweden took the cake from Sealand and looked at the goats.

"Come in," he said after a moment.

They were served spiced wine, and neither Sweden nor Finland mentioned the goats. Despite the fact that Sealand and Ladonia took turns riding them.

"France didn't come with you? You usually go everywhere together" said Finland.

"No, he…had something to do," said Spain.

The kids brought the goats in.

"It started snowing really hard!" said Ladonia, bringing them up to their room. Above them flew all the different birds that had followed Spain and Prussia all the way there.

"But you can't keep them in the house!" said Finland. "Sve tell them they can't keep them in the house!"

"…You can't keep them in the house," repeated Sweden, without much conviction.

"But they'll be cold! And we already named them! That one's Pikachu, and this one is WiFi, and that's England-Sucks," said Sealand.

"They already named them," said Sweden, and Finland sighed.

"Fine, you can keep them inside. But don't let them eat anything important!" said Finland.

Ladonia pulled Pikachu up the stairs, but Sealand seemed to have more trouble pushing WiFi and England-Sucks. Prussia laughed and got up to help him. He clapped his hands as he approached.

"Up! Up you do and behave," he told them and the goats did as directed.

"Wow, how do you do that?" asked Sealand. "And how do you keep those birds sitting on your head?"

"Uh? I have a bird in my head?" asked Prussia.

"You have two! Teach me how to talk to animals. Come, and teach Ladonia too!" he said, pulling Prussia up to his room.

Sweden smiled, looking at them, then turned to Spain. "You should stay for supper," he said. "Where are you going from here?"

"We planned to see the northern lights. Up in the laplands," said Spain, smiling.

Sweden nodded. "Yes, it will not be too cold the next few days," he stated. It was a fact, he would make sure of it, and the snow outside started to let up.

"We'll be fine, thank you. That's not necessary."

"Your van doesn't have snow tires," said Sweden.

Spain gave a nervous laugh. "I didn't…think we would need them."

Sweden nodded. "You can borrow some of ours."

"Thank you."

When Sweden left, Spain started snickering.

"Oh my god. I should have thought of that!" he said.

Finland laughed too. "Come on, I'll help you install them," he said, and they went to the garage.

"Ah~, you and Sweden seem so happy together," said Spain while Finland changed the tires.

Finland blushed. "W-well. I suppose. It's a peaceful time now, and that has helped. We're just as happy as you and Romano are, I guess."

Spain gritted his teeth and smiled, trying not to think about the sharp cold pain in his chest when he heard Romano's name.

"Y-yeah," he said.

"Yup. And how is he right now? I've heard he's been meeting with the International Monetary Fund lately. His economic grow lately has been fantastic."

"I… yes, it has."

"I guess after so long together, a relationship just blooms, don't you think?"

"…"

"I used to think about that a lot, when I started living with Sve," said Finland, screwing the tires and failing to see Spain's forced grin. "We had known each other for so long that it would be as hard as I worried, right? I mean we had always been so close and lived under Denmark's rule so there wouldn't be anything to fear. And there wasn't. I made it worse with all my worry. How silly, don't you think?"

"Ha, ha, well, that's…" started Spain, but Sweden calling them from the dinning room saved him from having to answer.

Prussia came down the stairs carrying Sealand on his shoulders and Ladonia on his arms

"Aren't you amazed at my awesome strength?" said Prussia.

Ladonia scowled. "The bet was carrying us _and_ a goat. You still have to take us to the movies," he said, and stuck his tongue at Prussia.

"Ladonia! Don't do that!" cried Finland.

Prussia just laughed and let the kids down. Spain tried to smile. He loved kids. He had loved his years as a parent, but they were gone now, and the price he would have to pay for them was to always treat Romano as his child. No matter how many centuries passed. And no matter how his feelings for him changed.


	10. Chapter 10

They left Sweden's house after supper, despite Sweden's pleas that they stayed the night and set off the next day. But they did leave the goats at his house, and borrowed gloves and scarves and appropriate coats for the weather.

"We'll be there in no time. Thanks for the nice weather!" said Spain as he climbed into the van. He waved back. "Enjoy then, we'll pick them up in a couple of days!"

Sealand, Ladonia and Finland waved back, but Sweden only took out his phone, concern all over his face.

"Who should I call? Germany or Romano?" he asked.

"You felt it too?" said Finland. "Spain looked so terrible. Call Romano."

Sweden nodded, and dialed Romano's number. He hadn't dared to do it when they were in the house.

"He doesn't answer," he said when he was redirected to the voicemail. "Romano it's Sweden. Call me as soon as you can please."

France came running down the street towards them. His wild hair and his rumpled shirt made it seem as if he had just climbed out of bed.

"Oh, no," he said, and stopped to catch his breath. "I just missed them, didn't I? Spain and Prussia I mean."

"They just left!" said Sealand.

Finland put a hand on his shoulder. "Go back inside, will you?" he told the kids, then looked back to France. "They went to Lapland to see the northern lights. What happened?"

"I'm not sure yet, but I intend to find out," said France and fanned himself with his hand. "Would you be kind and give me a glass of water before I leave?"

They gave him the water, along with boots, gloves, and a scarf. When he left they called Romano again. This time he did pick up.


	11. Chapter 11

The northern lights spanned across all the sky their eyes could see. Brilliant and colorful and much more amazing than they had ever imagined.

They sat on top of the van, pointing to this and that part of the sky where the lights shifted.

"We should have come here _hundreds_ of years ago!" said Spain.

"I know. Wow, this is incredible," said Prussia.

They stared excitedly, then fall into an amazed silence and settled for admiring the moving colors.

Prussia took a deep breath. "I used to think we were made of light," he said.

Spain nodded. "When I was little, I thought we came from the sea," he said, and laughed. "But that's so dumb, right?"

"Not dumber than what I thought."

A soft voice called the names, approaching fast, and they looked south. France came running to them, wearing the same kind of ugly scarf and gloves they had borrowed from Sweden and Finland.

"He's come to kick our asses," said Prussia. "We should have called him."

Spain jumped off the van. "How did you find us?" he asked when France had reached them.

"Did you seriously think you could run away like this without me noticing?" Of course I could find you! Seriously, what is wrong with you? Romano is heartbroken. He thinks you don't love him."

Spain turned away from him. "He's just upset. I… I handled it all wrong. I should have made myself clear."

"So you do love him."

"France please, we have talked about this before. It can't be."

"Yes, we talked about this, and I have already told you that you are being an idiot. You have to stop treating him like a child. He was never one to begin with."

"He was. He was my child."

"He was not. You ruled over his lands, and took him as a hostage. He was no child. No more than we ever were."

"We were never _allowed_ to be children!" yelled Spain. "When I met you, you had killed a battalion's worth of men! I hadn't been alive for a year when Rome forced me to work the fields for him! If you hadn't gone to war. If I hadn't been enslaved…"

France slapped him across the face. "You are not human Hispania! You never were! Stop trying to be human. We are earth and sky given human flesh, but don't forget that in your chest there has never been a human heart!"

Spain punched him in the face and Prussia jumped down from the van.

"Stop! Stop!" he shouted, trying to stop Spain, but France had already regained his footing and dodged a second punch, only to kneel Spain in the stomach and then punch him in the face so hard Spain fell down on the snow.

Prussia grabbed France's arms from behind.

"Stop fighting dammit!" he yelled. "This won't solve anything!"

"He doesn't want to solve anything!" yelled France. "He wants to be human so bad, he's ready to hurt anyone he has to. Himself and even Romano. I knew it from the moment you brought him home!"

Spain stumbled up and spat out a tooth that France had knocked out. "Don't bring Romano into this!" he yelled, and lurched forward to his France.

Prussia tried to let go of France, but he held on, lifted both his legs and kicked Spain in the chest, throwing him back on the ground.

"You're not so strong without your bull, uh?" said France. "You have always been a hundred years too young to defeat me on your own, and you will listen to me now!"

"Stop!" cried a voice from the road. Romano came running faster than any of them had ever seen him run. "Don't touch him!" he yelled, standing in between France and Spain. "I won't…let you hurt him," he said, panting and huffing.

Prussia let go of France and stepped back.

"I'm sorry," said France. "But we-"

"I don't care! Don't fucking touch him!"

France backed away.

"Roma? What are you doing here?" asked Spain, trying to get up. Romano knelt down next to him.

"Oh my God, you're bleeding," said Romano.

"Forget about me! Look at you, you're so pale," said Spain, and caressed the side of Romano's face. "You're so cold. Here, put on my coat or you'll freeze."

Romano shook his head and started crying. "Why do you still care? After what I did to you…"

"After what you did to me? Roma you didn't do anything to me."

France draped his coat around Romano. "We'll be in the van," he said, and pulled Prussia along with him.

Romano pulled the coat tighter around him. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have forced you to have sex with me. I'm so sorry Spain, I never meant to hurt you. But I…I really thought…," he said and wiped the tears from his eyes, but more kept falling. "I love you, and I thought you loved me back."

"You love me?" asked Spain. A trail of blood falling down the side of his mouth.

It was one thing to know vaguely that Romano may have romantic feelings for him, and another completely different to have him there, red face and apologizing for loving him.

"I do! I'm sorry, I know that is no excuse for taking advantage of you, but I hope you can forgive me for it."

Spain blinked. In his head, he started to make sense of what Romano was saying.

"You mean… You think you forced me to have sex? Roma, I…I loved that. I love you, and I had to stop myself from just ripping away your clothes and fucking you right there!"

Romano's face turned a bright red. "What? Really?" he asked.

"Yup."

"But why…why did you say it was wrong?" Why did you say that you wanted me to stop?"

Spain hung his head. "I don't think it is right. Romano, I used to treat you like my son. I raised you like a father rises a son. So when I started loving you like a man, I thought you would find my feelings disgusting, and even when we were-"

"No wait. You mean you have felt loved me for longer? How long?"

"Since the first great war. When you pulled me out of that ditch, remember? I had hit my head on something, ha, ha. And I lied there unable to move, but you carried me back to safety on your back. I should have been proud of you, but all I could think of was that you were gorgeous and I wanted to kiss you so bad. God, I'm…I'm disgusting Roma. I should be the one asking you to forgive me."

"Yes."

"Uh?"

Romano stood up. "Fuck you! Fuck you I've been dying!" he kicked some snow at Spain. "When I thought you didn't love me my heart fucking stopped! And now you say that you've loved me all this time? That while I wondered if you could ever get to love me you were just ignoring what you felt for me? Well fuck that! Spain you're not my dad! No more than you're my brother just because Feliciano calls you big brother!"

"But-"

"Shut up. I'm freezing my ass off. I ran all the way here to see your forgiveness but now I have everything I want, so get up," said Romano.

"Eeh?" mumbled Spain, whose head was having trouble keeping up with everything.

"It's enough to know that you love me. For now. I also am convinced you're a complete fucking idiot. But that's a bonus. Let's go somewhere warm."

They helped each other back to the van. Romano too weak to be as strong as he pretended to be, and Spain acting as if he didn't have a couple ribs cracked.

"You're alright now!" said Prussia from the driver's seat.

"We will be," said Romano, his words more breath than voice. He sat next to Spain in the back, huddling as close as they could get.

"Start already! I'm freezing!" said France, hitting the dashboard.

"Don't hurt her!" said Prussia, swatting his hands away and caressing the dashboard in soothing motions. The van started up and turned around.

"Nice, nice," said Prussia.

"What an insane trip. You should have at least brought some blankets," said France, opening the gloves compartment and finding only a tiny yellow bird nestled among what used to be a map. "And what is that awful smell? It smells like goats or something." He pulled out a tiny bottle of perfume and spritzed some on his borrowed scarf.

"Oh yeah, the goats," said Spain. "Should we pick them up on the way back?"

Romano stirred against him to look up at his face. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Prussia laughed. "Nah, they won't mind keeping them for a few days," he said.

"Idiots," muttered Romano against Spain's shoulder.

Spain held him against him and caressed his hair with his fingers, and Romano soon fell into an exhausted sleep. He dreamed of lazy mornings, bright and warm. They stretched across days and months waking beside each other and falling asleep to the sight of Spain's smiling face.

He dreamed of forever, spent with him.


	12. Chapter 12

They went back to Germany's house, who didn't believe the story about the goat eating Prussia's phone, and demanded that they gave back the van until Prussia climbed on top of it and refused to get down unless he kept it.

He stopped nagging about the van after he saw the security tapes of the night, and instead gave the two men a slightly better -and American- car in exchange. They had been tourists, and he made sure they now vacationed as far from him as possible.

As for Spain and Romano, they took it one day at a time.

Spain thought less about the past, and Romano worried less about the future.

A good morning kiss, a good night tumble on the sheets.

They didn't question it, and soon found that eternity lurked in those easy minutes, listening to each other's breathing.


	13. Chapter 13

**Epilogue**

Spain had fallen asleep with his head on a pillow on Romano's lap. Romano caressed his curls and lowered the volume on the tv.

"I'm not asleep," said Spain and turned to look up at Romano.

"Good. It's not even halfway through the movie, and America said there was a robot fight near the end," said Romano.

"Heh, America's movies are weird."

"I thought you would like it."

"I like the ones Roma likes," said Spain wrapping his arms around Romano.

"Liar. You always fall asleep with my movies."

"Hmmm, yes, but I like that too. And when I wake up at the end I had a siesta next to you and you're always smiling."

Romano poked his cheek. "Idiot~," he said.

Spain laughed and rubbed his face against Romano's stomach. Romano laughed and stood up to throw him off his lap.

"No! Don't tickle me bastard!" He yelled, his face completely red. Spain writhed on the floor, still smiling like a fool. A fool in love.

"I wanna see my Roma smile!" He whined.

Romano huffed and turned off the tv. "Shut up. Let's have dinner. I didn't like the movie either," he said and went to the kitchen.

He was starting to understand that there were a bunch of things Spain didn't like, but he liked doing them anyway. Like drinking Romano's coffee and complaining that it was too strong. If Romano didn't make coffee, he simply shifted the conversation to complain about how Romano hadn't made coffee that morning.

Spain opened a bottle of wine France had sent them. Apology wine, he called them, and said that they were worth the trip to the hospital and his cracked ribs.

"Yay, this is gonna be delicious~," he said, pouring a glass for both of them while Romano served the lasagna.

"I can't believe you just fight like that. And then send each other wine or whatever an it's alright with you," he said, and sat across from Spain. There were many things he didn't know about Spain. Many things he kept hidden, mostly humiliating defeats.

Spain shrugged. "That's what we used to do in the old days. I guess the habit stuck."

"Some stupid fucking habits you two have," said Romano.

His phone rang, and he answered when he saw it was a message from Feliciano. He had sent Romano a photo of Germany and him at the beach with the note "You can use the house while we're gone."

"Ugh, what a way of ruining my dinner," said Romano and passed the phone to Spain.

"Aww, they're so cute together," he said. "Tell hm to take lots of pictures for us."

"I don't want to see any of their disgusting photos. I want that potato bastard to keep his hands off Feliciano."

"They're happy together."

Romano pursed his lips. "Spain, I want you to tell me something."

"Uh? What?"

"What did you do to resurrect him?"

"Eeh? What are you talking about?" Asked Spain, but he had paled, and refused to look Romano in the eyes.

"Don't lie. I saw you and Prussia the night he brought Holy Rome's body to the house with him."

"I locked you in your room," said Spain, his expression suddenly tired.

"I climbed the vines outside the window and sneaked in to the kitchen. Now I wish I hadn't, but it doesn't help to regret it now, does it?"

"No. It doesn't. Roma I don't want to talk about it now," he said, and drank the rest of his wine.

Romano didn't press the matter.

That night, long after they had turned off the lights, and laid in bed together, Spain moved to lay on his side and stare at Romano's closed eyes.

"I know you're not asleep," he said.

Romano opened his eyes. "Bastard," he whispered, and turned to glare at Spain in the darkness.

"If I never told you what we did, would you be ok with that?" asked Spain.

Romano thought about it. "No. I would start nagging you in a decade or so, now that I don't have to pretend like I didn't see anything."

Spain laughed and placed soft kisses down the side of Romano's face. "You're such a brat. But…I'm happy you never told anything to your brother."

"He fucking loved Holy Rome. I'll never forgive that bastard for dying," said Romano, and couldn't bring himself to tell Spain that he would never forgive him for dying either.

"That was why I decided to help Prussia that night. Prussia loved him, Italy loved him, even France who had dealt the last blow –He stole away the body before anyone could stop him. They loved him for who he was, not because he was the embodiment of the Holy Roman Empire. I thought that, even if the empire was over, he could still live somehow. I knew that if it had been you Roma, I would also have tried anything to bring you back."

"Don't say that," said Romano, pulling him closer, wanting to feel Spain's skin with his own hands and forget the sight of that cold dead body on Prussia's arms.

"I had never seen one of us dead. As far as I knew when we died we just well, die…France used to say that he had a tomb carefully dug into the ground for him to walk into when he felt the end approaching. I knew we had to bury him, but…," Spain seemed lost in his memories. "We used blood. Of course we did. We couldn't think of anything better. Prussia's blood at first, and when that didn't work, Prussia went off to get some of his other brothers. Who knows what they told him? I stayed with the body for two days and the feeling of death coming off it nearly drove me insane. Some nights I still have nightmares about it."

"So the blood worked."

"Probably. Prussia also tried holy water, and prayed incessantly in all the languages he knew. He apologized everything that he had done in the holy land, for all the people he killed, vowed to fulfill any duties that king or god demanded of him. I can't even remember right now. It all just…blurs in my mind to a mess of blood, and praying, and the feeling of death always whispering to me, trying to drag me away from the world. That is all I can tell you. That we tried everything we could come up with, and somehow it worked. That, and that I would do it all over again, if-"

"No, don't say that," said Romano, and kissed him into silence.

In the tiny, blissful eternity of kisses, death couldn't reach you.

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading, and if you liked this fic, please consider leaving kudos or a comment. That would totally make my day.

To be honest, I just wrote this because I wanted a fic where Spain and Prussia traveled in a volkswagen van with a goat.


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